Pretty Young Things
by etgoddess
Summary: Love is a temporary madness. It erupts like an earthquake and then subsides. And when it subsides you have to make a decision; your heart says stay and battle the pain, but your mind says leave for all this is not needed.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: Once upon a time I had a boatload of stuff uploaded here…decided it was time to repost. The impulse also might have stemmed from a desperate wish to avoid studying…

* * *

Inhale. Force the oxygen into your unwilling lungs. Breathe deeper.

Slow down—gasping would be obvious. Uncouth. Not fitting of a queen.

Blink. Slower. Blink again.

Swallow. Command the knot in your throat that makes your eyes water and your stomach roil, away. Swallow again. Easier.

Nerves. Tamp them down. Queens do not vomit in public.

Chin up, head cocked coyly.

Suppress every urge to vacuum seal your palm to his so that he can never _break_ you again. Gently. Clasp gently. Queens are delicate.

Purse your lips. Lightly. Smile. Smile better. Queens are always pleasant.

Smooth the creases around your eyes. Stop clenching your jaw. You are _not _in pain. Make eye contact. Make eye contact. He's staring right at you, look at hi—look at the band.

Tease him. Closer. Stand closer. Don't let your hand shake. Don't let your voice break. He won't _break_ you with his eyes this time no matter how long he wants to stare holes in your neck.

Touch. Touch your hand to his shoulder, to his back, but don't feel.

Focus. Focus on something else.

Remember. His velvet voice lies. Remember who you are. Remember who you aren't. A queen is always appropriate, never indecent.

Don't bring it up. Casual. All is well.

A dance of illusions. A dance of delusions.

Happy King and Queen.

Focus.

Space between your bodies. Distance. More. Touch but _do not_ feel.

Focus on something else. Look around you. A queen surveys her kingdom.

Don't feel.

Breathe.

See your opportunity. Don't feel. A queen always leaves them wanting.

Swallow.

_Don't feel. _

Remove your hands. Remove your right hand.

Don't look back. Move your feet. Slower. A queen never runs.

Sway your hips. More. Don't feel. Don't look back.

The fire lapping up the back of your neck is nothing.

His eyes do not follow you.

_Focus. _

Move your feet. Don't feel. Swallow. Blink. Inhale.

Alone in an empty hallway. You can gasp now.

The public sees this:

A young blonde with her entire life ahead of her

—_privileged, gifted—_

dances innocently

—_intimately_—

with her date on the dance floor.

Smiling. Always smiling. The smile never falters.

What life, what joy, what a dress.

Her date is attentive and they dance well together; a special surprise given the lack of practice between the two. If the couples standing near them feel the tension bend and fray between them, no one says a word. When the proper young lady steps back without hesitation to excuse herself from the floor and approach her friends, society's elder generation is impressed by her ramrod straight posture and confident, unhurried steps. The husbands discreetly admire the hugging dress and swing in her step. If her friends notice she blinks more than strictly necessary during their conversation, they chalk it up to the relentless lighting and complement her on her immaculate composure. If the staff catches sight of a debutante in a service hallway, hunched over and gulping air like a woman underwater, they roll their eyes and walk on. These twerps are just pretty young things with worries no deeper.

A/N: This was my attempt at deciphering what Jenny must have been thinking during the Cotillion dance scene with Nate. B/c if I was in that situation, I would've been going insane…comments/reviews are welcome!


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: I apologize for the wait…unfortunately Professors just don't understand the "I needed to update my fanfiction" excuse here…

I also want to send out huge hugs to all my reviewers! You guys make my week.

* * *

The public sees this:

Nathaniel Archibald

Upper East Side society darling

_--fresh off his latest requisite familial indiscretion—_

_(because to call it a scandal would be tasteless)_

walks the halls calmly.

With appropriate smiles at young debutante girls,

the perfunctory trading of vaguely salacious comments with society's women,

and respectful handshakes for their long-suffering men.

He chats with his date first. Shows her the _appropriate _attention. Trades the proper, polite comments and compliments. His tuxedo, designed by Armani himself, sits on his frame immaculately. If anyone notices the way he stares after her, they don't say a word. He displays the _appropriate _amount of pride as he debuts her to the room, maintains the _appropriate _distance between them as they dance—which they do fluidly. If anyone notices how his fingers curl into her back, press into her dress so he can _feel _her, they decide she must've stepped on his foot, poor boy. When the dashing young man steps back, releasing his lady to fulfill her debutante duties and entertain her friends, society's elder generation is impressed by his respectful farewell—unblemished by any unsightly teenage displays of distasteful affection—and his confident posture. The wives discreetly admire the way his tuxedo clings _(hugs, in all the right places)_ and the gentle smile gracing his lips. If his friends notice the holes he bores in his date's neck as she struts away, they chalk it up to eye strain from the _godforsaken_ lighting and move on. They are pretty young things with worries no deeper.

On stage, the spotlight is blinding

_(as he remembers it was last time)_

But he can feel every inch of her arm against his.

_(Did he feel anything last time?)_

He thinks he might be on fire. He thinks he'd be happy to burn if only she'd keep touching him.  
Blair would be proud of her Queen-elect.

_(That was a scheme worthy of a Queen.)_

They dance. He doesn't even stomp on her toes once_. _

_(That certainly didn't happen last time.)_

Just dance.

He tries not to stand too close.

Fails.

Stands closer.

_(It's not a game this time.)_

He tries not to breathe. And it works, he cannot smell _her. _

But then she speaks and then she smiles at him and then, even though she doesn't _quite_ look him in the eye, he almost chokes because it has been _too long_ since she's even _looked _at him.

He's forced to breathe again.

_(Stupid lungs.) _

The smell he used to dream about,

used to bury his face in the Humphrey couch cushions to find

_(but don't tell Dan) _

fills his nose, his mouth, and he almost chokes again.

_(He cannot win.) _

He wants to say '_I'm sorry'_ but that would be stupid.

He knows well-enough that '_I'm sorry' _can't fix anything.

He wants to say _something _to get her to speak again.

To laugh.

To do _something_ to erase his last memory of her from behind his eyes.

_(Crying. Alone. You're an idiot, Nate.)_

Words fail him

_(What else is new?)_

So he stares

--her eyes, her face, her milky shoulders—

She touches him

--his shoulder, his back—

And he can't feel his _feet_ or his _face_ but he feels her _hand_.

Delicate; holding his appropriately.

_(He is starting to hate that word.)_

A dance befitting a royal couple.

He can't focus.

He is sure whatever he's saying is in another language because he can't remember English.

Or his name.

But he can't _forget _hers.

_(God help him he's tried—Blair gave way to Jenny, Vanessa gave way to Jenny, Bree gave way to Jenny, Serena gave way to Jenny)_

Step back.

He needs more space; he can't breathe and he _really_ needs to stop staring because this is getting completely _inappropriate—_

_(She's a child!)_

—He can't remember when he started _lying _to himself.

_(Two years is not exactly robbing the cradle, Nathaniel.)_

When she finally breaks away,

_(Slowly, one hand at a time. Let go, Nate.)_

Beckoned by her _friends, _

The feeling returns to his toes, his fingers, his lips,

And he should be happy

But it burns.

He stares.

(_Again. This is getting ridiculous, Nathaniel. People are going to notice.)_

He follows the swing of her hips, traces her spine, laps up the curve of her neck.

He needs a drink. His throat feels like sandpaper.

(_Swallow you moron.)_

Like the sun

(_his sun)_

She lights him up, warms him, and he'd gladly sacrifice his retinas just to _see. _

_(Blink, Nathaniel. Blink already. It's not polite to stare.)_

He can't feel her hand anymore.

But she,

_(her perfume)_

—she—lingers in the air surrounding him and for a moment he _will not move. _

He inhales.

Later, drunk and alone, he will decide she is better off without him. A place inside of him, hidden by stone walls, and etched with _N & J_ will fracture. And he will feel it. And he will tell himself that noise _(that gasping sound) _is coming from the television.

* * *

A/N: My attempt at Nate's P.O.V. He is definitely trickier for me. Comments/reviews are welcome!


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: So sorry for the wait! Studying for a chem. exam was kicking my ass…but a rare snow day has allowed me to procrastinate that just a _little _bit longer…

To all my amazing reviewers…I'm fighting through my inbox to get to all of you I promise. You make my week!

* * *

She wasn't blind. _(Unfortunately.)_

She saw the looks, the touches _(the Gossip Girl blasts) _that whispered

_(screamed)_

Nate and Serena were well on their way to becoming a bona-fide couple.

_(Is it over yet?)_

Eye contact was no longer an option; he didn't _deserve_ even that much.

(C_an I open my eyes?)_

She wasn't deaf. _(Not for lack of trying. What is it they say about loud music and headphones?)_

She heard the rumors, mumblings, her cell phone singing "…set the dark on fire…"

(_Goddamn Gossip Girl blasts)_

Briefing the world _Barbie & Ken_ were making up.

(_Didn't they get divorced?)_

There was dissention among her followers;

"Didn't you guys used to date? Hook up?"

(_We moved on.)_

"Are you just gonna let that bitch steal your man?"

_(We grew apart.)_

She dismisses their queries—a Queen has places to be.

_(I'll pretend I'm okay with it all.)_

They hadn't had a conversation in months.

(_If you open your mouth, you'll have to stop biting your tongue.)_

But she wasn't mute.

She wasn't numb. _(That's what Damien was for.)_

She couldn't feel the cold with the chemical heat searing her veins.

The dark is her friend now; seedy bars, risqué clubs, alleys, Central Park, the limo, the hotel room—

_(—Lights off.)_

When she can't see she can _pretend_

_(she won't walk away but she won't look back)_

that she's done hoping, that she's beyond hope;

that the eyes that scorch her skin and scar her wounds

(_when she visits Chuck who has 'forgotten' to mention that he's 'stopped by')_

Belong to someone else.

_(Cause when he's looking she falls apart.)_

* * *

A/N: Jenny's P.O.V. I'm not sure I like how this turned out but I'm so conflicted with all the new spoilers coming out I had to keep reining myself in from going off on a tangent on how Jenny would love to kick the everloving out of a few people…

Anyway, her thoughts on…all things Nate…the post-cotillion fallout, Serena, etc. Comments/reviews welcome!


	4. Chapter 4

A/N: Snow days = push chem. under the desk and write. If I haven't said it before, these characters are not mine. If they were, we'd be moving to HBO.

* * *

He wants to blame it all away. Excuses, excuses. Wants them to count.

_(Where were my senses? I left them all behind.)_

But he is not blind. He knew her once.

_(and he can tell how much she hates this)_

He can see her smiles don't reach her eyes, her eyes never meet his, and she flinches

—for a split second—

every time Damien touches her.

(_He's seen her excited. This is not it.)_

He is not deaf. There is a fine difference between her 'happy-and-she-means it' and her 'if-I-tell-you-what-you-want-to-hear-will-you-go-away'.

_(He can't pretend it's all the same.)_

Her words of congratulations on his latest _relationship_ fall flat.

But he calls once anyway just to wish her well

_(to see if he can change this)_

And when they hang up a few minutes later the sick feeling in his stomach only gets worse when Serena finds him.

_(He's heard her excited. This is not it.)_

Chuck loves both his sisters,

_(Blair was destroying him. He was never one to care which skirt Nathaniel was chasing…unless it was hers)_

but one drunken night, sounding disgusted, he asserts

"Jenny is not your _friend_ anymore, Nathaniel."

_(But what he means is, you left her stranded)_

Because after three hours of quietly enduring a dissertation detailing _all_ the ways Serena is not the girl he dreamed she was, Chuck does _not_ love listening to Nathaniel lament Jenny's recent choice of _company_.

_(This friendship thing was taxing.)_

Nate knocks back a shot but scotch can't erase

_(I didn't want to face the truth)_

months of mistakes

_(Vanessa, Bree, Serena, lies, coward)_

made in a vain effort to forget _her. _

He is not numb. He'd like to _pretend _that Damien's hand on her back

_(her shoulders, her neck, her thighs, her stomach; that little shit)_

the one time he sees them in the park

_(or the next time at Butter, or Katwalk, or Victrola)_

together does not make him sick; doesn't make the bile rise in his throat until it feels like even his _teeth _are on fire.

_(There are a million things I don't want to know.)_

And when Blair lets it slip

—conveniently so,

that _Little J _might not be so _innocent _anymore—

He will pretend the fractures do not _splinter_.

_(It is the secret he hides behind.)_

* * *

A/N: Nate's P.O.V. Again, writing Nate kind of makes my head spin, but…his thoughts on the latest drama.

Also, every time the promo comes on TV I scream. Is it March 8th yet?


	5. Chapter 5

A/N: Credit for this chapter goes out to the A Fine Frenzy song "Near to You". Apologies for borrowing a line or two from the lyrics; it was my soundtrack on repeat.

And to all my reviewers, again…you guys make all the sleep deprivation worth it. ;p

* * *

It took time. Enough time that seedy clubs and sailboats became just her Friday night.

_(Thursday night, Wednesday afternoon, Monday morning)_

But eventually, Chuck asked why.

_("Why are you doing this, Jenny?")_

He didn't specify;

_(Why Damien? Why drugs?)_

he didn't have to.

He should have seen this coming.

_("I saw that look in your eye, the very first day you came on my radar.")_

Maybe that was reason enough. Surely someone should've seen this coming.

_(Someone wasn't paying attention. Someone left you.)_

The signs were all there.

_(Her father chastised, "Jenny we need to talk about your grades." Eric was reproachful, "Jenny where are you going dressed like that?" Dan, confused, "Jenny, what smells like beer?")_

Surely _someone_ should've stopped her.

_(Someone could've said, "Stay, Jenny. I was hoping we could hangout tonight." Surely that would've done the trick.)_

She had her reasons.

_(He and I, had something beautiful, but so dysfunctional it couldn't last)_

None of them involved Damien. They included pain, distraction, and betrayal.

_(Only one of those involved Damien.)_

The closer she got, the nearer she stayed, to the derelict son of the ambassador,

the further the little girl of zip codes past, faded,

And with her, the inexorable memories of the boy _he _once was.

_(—he's disappearing, fading steadily—)_

It took time. Enough time that seedy clubs and sailboats became just her Friday night.

_(Saturday night, Tuesday afternoon, Sunday morning)_

But eventually, Rufus caught on.

_("I can't have you spending time with someone mixed up with drugs!")_

She didn't have to ask how he knew;

_(Who told you? Who told you?!)_

but she wanted to know why _the little birdie_ still _cared. _

_(And because wouldn't count.) _

Sometimes she worried Damien was catching on.

_(But he couldn't tell the difference between a forced smile and a real one. He didn't pay attention when her eyes didn't meet his.)_

Sometimes she didn't care.

_(She'd breathe his name, "Nate." when it wasn't Nate she was wrapped around at all and she'd wait. But punishment never came.)_

Sometimes she'd yell it. Shout another man's name to the Heavens. Cajole, provoke, and beg Damien for a fight.

_(React. Make me feel.)_

But a fight never came. The same suave smirk would curl his lips each time

_(—a shoddy imitation of his predecessor if she were to judge—)_

and she would think, for a moment, that maybe she was better here,

maybe she was healing here,

maybe now Nathaniel _fucking_ Archibald could cease to be the baseline comparison against which she appraised _every other man _in the universe

—and, for a moment, she'd let Damien pacify her with handbags and cold, hard cash.

It wouldn't be until much later that night that it would occur to her.

_(Nate would've argued.)_

* * *

A/N: Jenny's P.O.V. I'm not even sure where these are coming from anymore…my Muse has quite the mind of its own. The new promo inspired the basis for this; _Near to You_ "wrote" the rest…As always, comments/reviews are welcome!


	6. Chapter 6

A/N: Well, not to scare anybody away but--sorry guys, I even made myself vomit a little writing this...however…inevitably I had to bring up the nausea that is N/S. Bear with me. To all my reviewers, you are amazing! Thank you so much for your comments; the insight really does help create the next chapters.

* * *

It takes time. Enough time that Chuck starts to worry out loud about the possibility of Nathaniel as an old spinster with 27 cats.

_(And Nate has to try not to vomit because Jenny's voice teased the same words a lifetime ago around a coffee table in a homey loft in Brooklyn. And he can still hear it.)_

But eventually, the fascination fades.

_(Serena's alluring blonde locks suddenly seem dull, mediocre; her eyes, the wrong color.)_

And he thinks he might be crazy; finally cracked, utterly insane. Because—_really_—the wrong color? What makes it a _right_ color?

_(But he knows the answer to that question.)_

And Blair never says it out loud;

_(You're hot for Jenny Humphrey!)_

but he knows she does too.

She thinks she should've seen this coming.

_(Preferably before Nate tried to kill an ambassador's son.)_

Preferably before Chuck Bass did.

_("What are you guys friends now?")_

Serena was her best friend. Wasn't there some kind of alarm to warn against threats to the welfare of one's best friend?

_(—but if Serena was hung up on that Brooklynite, Humphrey, the whole time—)_

She decides Nathaniel's Little J situation never posed a valid threat.

_(There are no valid threats to an invalid relationship.)_

Though surely the motherchucker's stupid

_(deliciously distracting)_

pinstripes didn't have her this far off her game.

_("What are you smirking at?" "The look on Nate's face, Blair." "What look? What face?" "That face. The Jenny look." "Oh, you don't know what you're talking about." "I have eyes, Blair." "He's with Serena, Chuck." "He's sleeping with Serena, Blair.")_

She should've known even his dream girl couldn't hold his attention.

_(She is intimately familiar with Nate's epic attention span, after all.)_

He has his reasons.

_(No, you don't belong to me)_

None of them involve Serena. They include politically-immune Belgians, distraction, and see-through evening gowns.

_(Only one of those involves Serena.)_

The closer they get,

_(the fewer layers of clothing between them)_

the easier it is to pretend

_(that she doesn't hate the film school vixen, that the ambassador's kid doesn't make his neck hair stand on end)_

that 'NateandSerena' have their happily ever after.

_(—_ _there's no good reason why to live such a lie—)_

It takes time. Enough time that '_kitchen_', '_coat closet_', and '_couch_' become dirty words.

_(strawberry, caramel, whipped cream)_

But eventually, enthrallment turns to diversion turns to dependence, asylum.

_(You stand me up like a crutch, another arm)_

She doesn't wonder whose blonde hair he sees when he looks at her now.

_(it doesn't even sting; she sees brown eyes not blue)_

He doesn't ask why 'The New Yorker' finds its way to her kitchen table each week.

_(not when the March issue of Vogue is burning a hole in his desk drawer)_

So then '_because_' is a fine answer as to why a little birdie nudges the senior Humphrey in the direction of the Daalgard backstory.

_(No, you'd tell me anything, look what you've done to me)_

Because she is always there.

_(I don't want to remember)_

Because he runs, he puts people and distance between them, and he winds up back at the beginning. With her.

_(I just want to forget you)_

Because this is an equal opportunity fairytale; she saves him right back.

_("I figured you've come to my rescue enough times, let me help you for once.")_

Because he is losing her.

_(turn you into a perfect stranger)_

Because he thought he wanted to lose her.

_("You're not who I thought you were.")_

But they're finally speaking again

_("You know how these girls are."…"I'm pretty sure they hooked up at boarding school.")_

And they aren't Jenny's words coming out of Jenny's mouth and she's cold and she's calculating and she's too calm.

_(all you are is a perfect stranger)_

Because he expects screaming; because he wants screaming. Because he _needs_ her to scream at him until she is beyond anger and hatred and hurt and betrayal and tears; because she is Jenny and _Jenny_ never lets _Nate_ get away with anything.

_("You are not my father, and you are not my brother, so why do you care so much?")_

Because he is trying it all with Serena, plays all the games, all but invites her to punish him; makes her jealous, plays the jerk, feigns disinterest.

_(And she walks away.)_

They don't talk. They face off, they fuck.

And he thinks that maybe it's better,

maybe it's easier this way,

maybe he is content with simple

_(…you help pass the time…)_

—maybe this time it's not about Jenny Humphrey.

Because sometimes in a dark and smoky room

_(we try not to crash but we still collide)_

he catches _her_,

_(up against a wall, pressed into a faceless stranger; where is Damien?)_

And his blood boils savagely.

_(her eyes are empty, her smile a sterile imitation)_

What she's doing with her hips should be _illegal_ and that smarmy Belgian prick is just _watching_ from a booth nearby, _leering_, as some un figlio di puttana _paws_ her

_(he can be international too)_

—winds crisp bills through her bra straps.

It isn't until much later that night, face buried in _(the wrong)_ blonde hair, that it will occur to him.

_(But it's always about her.)_

* * *

A/N: Okay, I really hope that made some sense. I had a hell of a time with this one. Credit goes to GG for Chuck's line from the S1 N/J deleted scene: "What are you guys friends now?" And for a few N/J lines. And props to Daughtry's "You Don't Belong to Me", Leona Lewis' "Perfect Stranger", and the amazing 30STM cover of "Stronger"; the soundtrack for this chappie.

Ew. N/S might've ruined strawberries, coats, couches for me…forever.


	7. Chapter 7

A/N: Jenny's P.O.V. Poor girl, stupid Damien. These eps. are just…love. This was hell to write but I'm looking forward to tonight's ep. for inspiration in spades! Love to all my reviewers/alerters/favoriters!

* * *

And argue Nate does.

_("You can't be with someone who's dealing drugs!")_

And Jenny has to fight for air because this, this was all too familiar and this was all too unfair—

_(and she still can't lie to him)_

—and he, he would stand up after he'd said his piece and he'd have Serena and she'd have…

_(all I wanted was you)_

_

* * *

_This is stupid.

_(Where do I tear when we were so close?)_

There is a line, clearly indicated by the heel of her Christian Louboutins.

_(Blair would be so proud.)_

Jennifer's heart. Jennifer's head.

_(Come break me down.)_

Nate does not live here anymore; it is Damien who blurs her lines now.

_(I am finished with you.)_

_

* * *

_But _he_ says, "_I'm sorry_".

_(you're killing me, killing me) _

And it nearly shatters her.

_(look in my eyes)_

_

* * *

_He isn't her father and he isn't her brother and she needs him to understand that her relationship with Damien is about more than just _because_ and she wants _him_ to hurt and she wants _him_ to feel what it is to be empty and she _needs _him to stop.

_(What if I wanted to fight?)_

So she picks at the scab.

_("It's not like you're available.")_

Scratches until it opens.

_("Stop pretending that you care about me.")_

Leaves it bleeding.

_("In fact the only one who does just got here.")_

_

* * *

_Child. Always a child, a kid, a girl.

_("You're acting like a child."…"I knew you were just a kid."…"You're a really special girl, Jenny.")_

Always coddling, sheltering, surveilling.

_(What if I wanted to break?)_

She wants dirty, needs dangerous, craves the depraved. She isn't being coerced, pressured, or intimidated.

Maybe she wants to _fuck. _

_(Maybe she wants to see the look on Nate's face as it dawns that she had.)_

_

* * *

_She is not trying to rewind. He can't seem to stop.

_(you say you're wrong, you're wrong, I'm right, I'm right, you're wrong, we fight)_

She was never going to stay bright, sunny, young Jenny forever.

_(okay I'm running from the light, running from the day to night)_

She thinks it's insane that he can't handle it. She thinks it's insane that _he_ has a problem with sex and drugs.

_(Oh, the irony.)_

She thinks it's insane that they can't have a conversation without an altercation.

_(—tattling, assault; what are we ten year olds on the playground?)_

She thinks the last time they stopped talking she almost went _insane_.

_(oh, the quiet silence, defines our misery)_

She is miserable.

She thinks she might lose it.

_(the riot inside keeps trying to visit me)_

Because he keeps talking

_("…you know, who's gonna be there in the morning…")_

and he keeps showing up, and how is she supposed to keep hating him if he's forcing all this _friendship_ on her

_(—and it rolls off her tongue like spoiled milk—)_

and why does he bother when there's just _so_ much between Nate and Jenny & _NateandJenny_.

_(no matter how we try it's too much history)_

_

* * *

_Too many months, too many words, too many tears.

_(too many bad notes playing in our symphony)_

She gave it space

_(so let it breathe)_

She gave it time

_(let it fly)_

She gave it away

_(let it go)_

She tied their friendship up in that little tan dress and threw it out

_(let it fall)_

Wrapped their _relationship _up in Vanessa's gown and burned it

_(let it crash)_

And it is _still_ alive.

_(burn slow)_

Dormant but not dead.

_(Bury me, bury me.)_

_

* * *

_She thinks she might throw up.

_("Where are you going?")_

She can't feel her legs but she walks home.

_("I knew you were just a kid.")_

She can't feel her heart but she guesses it's beating.

_("I knew you were just a kid.")_

She's fighting for her breath but she's still breathing.

_("I knew you were just a kid.")_

She speaks but God knows what she's saying.

_("No we did; honestly, Serena, I don't know what you were so worried about. It was no big deal.") _

_

* * *

_She knows exactly what she's saying.

_(Be careful what you wish for.)_

She wanted an argument.

* * *

A/N: Credit goes to my soundtrack; 30STM for lines from "The Kill (Acoustic)", and Hurricane, and to Leona Lewis' "Alive". Seriously, tonight is going to be epic. Watch and squee proudly!

As always, comments/reviews are welcome!


	8. Chapter 8

A/N: Nate's P.O.V. The poor bastard looks wrecked left and right the last few weeks. Good. Payback for his season 2 stupidity-of-epic-proportions. Love to all my reviewers!

* * *

He thinks he might throw up if he doesn't stop picturing it.

_("It's Jenny, she ran off with Damien, the guy's a drug dealer.")_

So he runs.

* * *

And he plays sports, likes to think he's athletic, but _God_ _why_ didn't he grab a cab instead of running a trillion blocks?

_(because he can't think when she's on his mind)_

He may be stupid but he _remembers_

_(her lips, her hands, her ass)_

what she feels like.

_(If Damien touches her he swears on Mother Theresa he will tear his Belgian limbs off and make him watch while he beats him to death with them.)_

Not yours.

_(Mine.)_

_

* * *

_If Chuck keeps asking why _he's _so angry with that stupid smirk on his stupid face while Blair just rolls her stupid eyes in the stupid corner

_("He likes her, of course, darling.")_

Nate is going to scream.

_(They are a perfect couple and it's disgusting and he wants to punch something.)_

And his face really hurts now

_(thanks, prick)_

and despite the sirloin stewing on his eyes he will probably have a glaring black reminder tomorrow.

He feels sick.

_(They are not here.)_

_

* * *

_He contemplates putting his fist through the wall

_(just so something else aches)_

but the receptionist is right there and it is not Chuck's hotel and he can't get it neatly taken care of.

So he clenches his fist, clamps his teeth, and fumes instead.

He is sure he is short with Serena when he calls

_("She. Isn't. Here.")_

but she doesn't care

_(doesn't notice)_

to make a scene in front of the Humphreys.

She hangs up.

He doesn't notice

_(doesn't care)_

because he's too busy considering alternate homicide scenarios in which he _doesn't _go to jail or get the chair for slaughtering a diplomat with immunity.

* * *

She called him a traitor.

He couldn't even be sorry.

_(He said it. But he'd never mean it if she was safe.)_

She told him he didn't _care_.

_(Blair found it hilarious, "Right because I go around saving strangers I don't care about all the time. Who does she think you are, Superman?" He just wanted to cry.)_

They had to be _friends_.

_(Nathaniel Archibald doesn't date girls he likes.)_

The word rolls off his tongue like tar.

_(leave it alone)_

He _had _to hold onto her.

_(Nathaniel Archibald doesn't date girls he wants to keep.)_

_

* * *

_She is tearing him apart; pulling at his seams,

_(painted in flames, all peeling thunder)_

licking at his scars, digging up his demons,

_(the lightning in me, that strikes relentless)_

fraying his edges until the corner of Nate's heart carved with Jenny's name is weeping blood

_('till all my sleeves are stained red)_

as freely as his sanity is slipping away.

_(I break you don't, I was always set to self-destruct though)_

_

* * *

_And he _likes_ it;

_(I want pinned down, I want unsettled)_

the hurricane that consumes him

_(rattle cage after cage)_

and he tries to _hate_ her for it.

* * *

So tonight he will go to see the _wrong _blonde

_(again)_

and he will moan her

_(wrong)_

name because he wants _her_ and he can't have _her_ and Damien has _her_ right now and he is going to be sick.

* * *

This changes nothing.

The next time she calls and it is too late and she is too far

_(and he is busy)_

he will forget any of this matters

_(a pulse, your pulse, it's the only thing I can remember)_

and he will get up and Serena will fret and they will fight and he will still come.

_(I want to see you, as you are now)_

He will come; and his jaw will grapple and his teeth will grind because she is drinking and he is missing the girl that the scotch drowned.

_(let it die; ghosts with just voices, your words in my memory)_

_

* * *

_So he will go to see the _wrong _blonde

_(again)_

and he will moan her

_(wrong)_

name because he wants _her_ and he can't have _her_ and _Serena_ will smile at him and he will still feel sick.

_(let it fester)_

_

* * *

_But he will show up. Because he is afraid of what happens when he doesn't.

_(What if this storm ends?)_

* * *

A/N: Credit to my soundtrack; first of all, "Trampled Youth" by KiD A, Snow Patrol "Set Fire to the Third Bar", "Please Just Take These Photos From My Hands", "The Lightning Strike", One Republic "Secrets".

Well…I have no words. The last few eps. have been pretty awesome. Juicy, twisted awesome. And Monday? Can't wait! Happy Birthday, Nate!

As always, comments/reviews are welcome!


	9. Chapter 9

A/N: Jenny's P.O.V. Happy, huh? Is that what happy looks like? Could've fooled me, Nate. I feel bad for almost everyone lately; one crappy situation after another. But content aside, (b/c let's not get crazy, folks, we can't ask for quality plot too ;p ) I can't complain about the motherlode of N/J scenes it seems we've come into. Bring it on. As always, love to my readers/reviewers!

* * *

She never really expected anything.

_(Really.)_

He was just a good friend.

_(It's not like he ditched his girlfriend, his grandfather, for you.)_

She is good. She is happy. They are friends.

_(We never change, do we?)_

She feels better now.

* * *

This isn't how it's supposed to be;

_(They are friends.)_

this one-sided, blind-siding, infatuation with a _boy_.

_(It is lonely at the top and she is nothing if not Queen.)_

She does not require company.

* * *

If they get any further apart in this Godforsaken elevator they'll both be climbing the walls.

_(just let me leave and get out of your way)_

And he stares like she can't feel it.

_(there are times when I hate you)_

Like she can't hear what he wants to say. Confirm. Remind himself?

_(She does not need to be reminded.)_

Like she doesn't want to scream at him to _stop _showing up and to _stop_ being so nice and to just _leave_ her in whatever dark hole she falls in next and to just _leave_.

_(you're the only one I wish I could forget)_

But she is quiet. There are no words left between them.

_(now they drown; suffocate under the weight of the chronically unsaid)_

_

* * *

_She goes out with Eric and smiles at Elliott and sulks with Chuck. And chats with Dorota and works with Eleanor and works and works and works.

She sees a familiar dress on a mannequin in a storeroom and she does not think of Armani and tabletop catwalks

_(she does not remember she has only ever liked champagne on Nate's lips)_

She does not protest or accost her boss

_("Isn't it darling, Jennifer? What other gems do you have hidden in those books?")_

She sets her jaw in stone

_(it joins her heart)_

She creates a wedding dress for a real love and does not think of fairytales or Knights.

_(I swear I was never in love)_

She graduates, gets a scholarship, lives through Bryant Park, builds a successful magazine, and can swear to God she never loved Nathaniel Archibald;

_(she is stone, she is stone, she is stone)_

Then the elevator dings and she forces light and airy and watches as he is pulled up the staircase—

And she lies, and she schemes, and she leaves and still she is the chosen one. _She_ apologizes, makes amends, and she is always there, and still _she_ is not who he thought she was—

And she is done.

_("Yeah, I'm done.")_

_

* * *

_Really, they're just friends.

_("Friends don't kiss friends at their fashion shows.")_

Really, really, good friends.

_("You know you can always come to me, right?")_

And it is good that he is happy.

_("Now I'm with Serena and I'm so happy.")_

Friends want good things for each other

_("…us hanging out was, just as friends…")_

and they crack naughty jokes as their friends retreat upstairs with their latest flame.

_(Crack jokes, Jennifer. Not skulls.)_

She is _happy_ her _friend_ had a _good_ birthday.

_(Her tongue does not taste of bile.)_

She is happy he has the girl of his dreams.

_(I'm saying things I really wish I mean)_

_

* * *

_And she hates herself. And she hates him a little bit more.

_(the only one I'd love to not forgive)_

Because she can tear him down and tear him up and he can make her cry and make her crazy

_(but still you live inside of me, so tell me how is that?)_

Because he can read her when she wants to be invisible

_("…She missed the whole ceremony. What's the matter?")_

and she is invisible when she needs him to see

_(I wish you never messed around with me)_

Because she knows he is everything he thought he never was and nothing like he thought he could've been

_(and though you break my heart)_

Because he is not enough and she is too much

_(and I don't want to love you in no kind of way)_

Because she is the spark and he is the gasoline and he needs that as much as she pretends not to.

* * *

So she will hurt him

_(and try to enjoy it)_

And he will not deserve her

_(and try to ignore it)_

* * *

But she will be there at the end of the day.

_(That's what I do)_

* * *

A/N: Soundtrack credit goes to Alexz Johnson's "I Swear I Was Never In Love" and Beyonce's "Broken-Hearted Girl".

Lord, I hope that all makes sense. Writing this one was a mindfuck. *ahem* Speaking of…I _will_ find a way to bring fuzzy handcuffs into this. ;p Much love to my lovely (read: fellow gutterling) N/J buddies.

Comments/reviews are welcome!


	10. Chapter 10

A/N: Nate's P.O.V. It's not perfect but they're together on screen so I'm not complaining (much). Also, if I had a boyfriend who was pulling the crap Nate is with some girl he had previous history with? I'd cut a bitch. Just saying…you're being a little transparent, Natie. The rest of the world knows what you really want. ;p As always, much love to my readers/reviewers!

* * *

He doesn't know what he's doing.

_("Let's just go back to the suite and get hammered…you up for it?")_

He has no idea what he's saying.

_("She's still just a kid.")_

He's not fooling anyone.

_(no matter what I say or do, I still feel you here, till the moment I'm gone)_

Serena may be self-involved but she's not falling for it

_(A woman knows when a man looks into her eyes and sees someone else.)_

Chuck may be broken but he's not blind

_("Facts do not cease to exist because they are ignored, Nathaniel.")_

It is so easy

_("Well, time flies when you're having a Wii tennis death match, Humphrey.")_

So simple

_("Hey, you wanna dance?")_

So hard

_("…us hanging out was, just as friends…")_

So complicated

_("I need to know why you ignore our plans to spend the day with Jenny.")_

And he doesn't have an answer she'll like.

So he lies.

_(and you're neither friend nor foe)_

And he can't seem to let her go

_(you hold me without touch)_

And he's tried to stay away

_(you keep me without chains)_

—so he lies.

He is good, he is happy, they are _friends._

_(He is drowning.)_

He should feel better now.

* * *

It doesn't take too long.

_(When it gets deeper than shampoo; Serena is not perfect and Nate will never be Dan and Chuck is all 'I told you so' except he is still Chuck Bass so it comes out something like, "I believe you owe me a Bentley, Nathaniel.")_

Something always brings him back to her

_(set me free)_

and he makes excuses and makes up stories and makes her hate him

_(leave me be)_

Because he can't hate her and he hates himself.

_(and I've lost who I am)_

They stand a million miles apart and six inches away

_(I don't want to fall another moment into your gravity)_

and he pretends he's looking at oak molding and Brooklyn "art"

_(and not at the way her dress is a shirt and she's naked under these trippy lights and he's drunk and she could be)_

And he blames age

_(but everyone remembers, "Come on, she's a sophomore, I'm a senior. Don't act like I'm some creepy older guy.")_

and commitments

_(but none of that mattered when you were groping her ass on the street, did it?)_

And Chuck tells him not to be stupid

_(again)_

but he will not look at the girl who is not a girl at all

_(because she does not look like a kid and she does not dance like a kid and she does not feel like a kid against his lips or move like a kid under his fingertips)_

He will stand tall

_(just the way I'm supposed to be)_

and he will diligently cater to Serena

_(but you're onto me, and all over me)_

_

* * *

_He stays quiet and he thinks this makes him strong.

_(But she loves him because he's fragile.)_

He bites his tongue and stands by Serena and goes out with Chuck and stews with Blair. And chats with Dan and confides in Rufus and lies and lies and lies.

_(Lying is done with words, but also with silence.)_

He sees a familiar dress on a mannequin in a window display and he does not think of Dorota and dancing

_(and Jenny, Jenny, Jenny)_

He does not throw a patented Bass tantrum or leave her a scathing message

_(I don't know how but now we're so far out of touch)_

He goes home to his significant other

_(and it is all a lie and he can't do it anymore because she is a Guitar Hero girl and he is a Wii Sports guy)_

and he lets her go.

_(and all my fragile strength is gone)_

He takes an Art History class field trip to the Museum of Modern Art and does not think of knee-socks or waffles

_("…It's just I'm a Humphrey so syrup is a food group.")_

He graduates, gets an internship, lives through the GMAT's, builds a life of money and prestige, and can swear to God Jenny Humphrey was just a girl he knew once;

_(he is cold, he is cold, he is cold)_

Then his alarm clock goes off and he forces himself out of bed and stumbles to the kitchen—

And she is always there and she is always trying and she is more than he dreamed she was and she knows what he can't say

_("You deserve someone who's gonna treat you right.")_

—and she is gone.

_("Just get out.")_

_

* * *

_How many times does he have to say _friends _before he believes it?

_(you have not forgotten me through all of this)_

How many times can he promise, _nothing happened_, before he will stop wishing it did?

_(you've lost the only thing that ever made you feel alive)_

They are just friends. He needs them to be good friends.

_(and the reflection of a lie will keep me waiting)_

And it is good everything is in the open and he only wants good things for her

_(except the list starts with him and ends with him)_

But he thinks maybe this time he's broken them.

_(and his tongue tastes of bile)_

And he thinks he finally understands how Chuck feels

_(I'm not asking you to let me rush back in and fail again)_

and to think that he is finally free of her makes his palms sweat and his stomach itch.

_(I'm falling all over myself)_

Serena looks at him

_(I know the burden and the pain it draws)_

and he is sorry for something but he doesn't know why.

He is lost.

* * *

And he hates himself. And he can't hate her.

_(but I'll meet you where we started once again, cause I miss you)_

Because no matter how dark the sunglasses, she always sees him

_(somehow you saw someone worth saving)_

Because nothing heals her like he does

_(there will be ash and dust to bury us but I will keep you clean)_

Because she never says what she should

_(that face, I know exactly what you're thinking)_

but she always tells him what he needs to hear

_(can you take it, can we save it?)_

Because he can tear her sideways and turn her right side up and she can make him forget his name and remember who he is

_(maybe we're not as far apart as it appears)_

Because he is the poor, damned moth and she is the glorious, wanton flame and she doesn't have to try and he can't resist

_(these are the signals of my dying nerves, singed by the heat of your lines and curves)_

_

* * *

_So he will go home to Serena

_(and pretend the distance between them does not bend and stretch; and pretend his heart did not stutter when he thought Sawyer might be another Damien)_

And she will go on picking at his scabs

_(and pretend hers aren't bleeding; we all break the same)_

_

* * *

_But at night, in the dark, he holds on.

_(to the way we started)_

_

* * *

_

A/N: Song credit goes to "Gravity" by Sara Bareilles, Jake Epstein's "Rescue You", "Shattered" by Trading Yesterday, "I Thought You Knew" by Keith Urban, "Heart" by The Pretty Reckless, "Alter the Ending" and "Motions" by Dashboard Confessional

…Alright so I had music A.D.D. while I was writing this. They're all good songs.

Nate's P.O.V. is kicking my ass. Twisted stuff we've been getting lately, but since there was no fail a la 2x12 in the last ep. I am still psyched. Especially b/c seeing Nate and Jenny in the kitchen made me think happy thoughts about Daddy and Mommy N/J making the kiddies waffles…*sigh*…and them doing shots together? *thud* So hot.

As always, comments/reviews are welcome!


	11. Chapter 11

A/N: Jenny's P.O.V. A huge thank you to wee birdy for convincing me to post this chapter in its original form. Lord knows I debated enough about it.

As always, much love to all my readers/reviewers!

* * *

She is lost.

_("I don't want to be alone.")_

And this time, she's sure not even he can find her. So she takes solace in one more lost soul.

_(And tries not to think about it.)_

And tries to forget how to feel.

_(And tries not to remember she loves and wants some idiot named Nate and this name doesn't start with "N" at all.)_

_

* * *

_She gets roaring drunk and keeps drinking.

Waits until her own name is a faint memory in the recesses of her mind;

and she still can't do it.

_(She still sees his face. It never leaves her.)_

She doesn't have anything left and he is willing and she is drunk and still she sees nothing wrong with this picture. Everyone in the Goddamn city hooks up to let go so why should Jenny Humphrey be any different?

She just needs someone to save her.

She tries to be a good daughter to her father, a good sister to her brother, a good friend

_(even to her minions; Blair would not approve)_

And at the end of the day there is no one to return the favor.

She is so tired of being alone.

_(The whole world is moving and I'm standing still)_

She argues with herself

_(begs, pleads; you are fine, just do it)_

Makes it as far as a kiss

_(and it feels wrong and it tastes wrong)_

But his lips are soft and his hands are warm

_(and his lips were hard on hers, leaked anger and possession; and his hands were cold and traced ice down her sides and she wonders where he is now and who he's with and if he will even care this time when his best friend gets there first)_

And still she cannot do it.

* * *

Her head is starting to ache and she's given up reciprocating and she just wants someone to be there.

She is not stupid.

_("I'll never be her, Chuck.")_

He is not naïve.

_("I won't pretend to be him, Jenny.")_

She knows what this is and just because her world is ending and his has fallen down doesn't mean the planet stops turning

_(and she wishes it would because her head hurts and her stomach is churning and she is out of breath)_

And the world spins madly on.

He knows and he fills her glass and she is sick but she drinks and he understands

_(I thought of you and where you'd gone)_

She is broken but he is shattered too.

_(I just got lost and slept right through the dawn)_

And it all keeps coming

_("You're hurting people you love.")_

And there is no way to pause or slow it down and she doesn't want to think anymore and he won't say it but he can't do it either.

_(Somewhere between saying "I love you" and letting Gita out of his suite this morning he realizes exactly how much truth there is in, "And I'm not Chuck Bass without you". And suddenly he doesn't want anyone else. She is in front of him and he could take what he needs but sex is just sex and not her.)_

Somewhere between "It only stops when you stop it" and "Just get out" she realizes she will never be free. He can break her heart, splinter it all into shards, and she'll still love him with all the tiny pieces.

* * *

She knows what unhappy feels like

_(tell them all I know now)_

is intimately familiar with what it looks like

_(shout it from the roof tops)_

has lived through how it acts.

_(write it on the skyline)_

And she might be fed up but she is not malicious and there is a reason she sent that blast.

_(all we had is gone now)_

Serena might be resigned to make do but Jenny knows her brother.

_(tell them I was happy)_

She might have the city but they've always had each other.

* * *

The night is here and the day is gone and the world spins madly on.

_("Chuck, what are you doing?")_

His hands are roaming and she can't ignore it anymore.

_("Trying to forget.")_

She can't argue with that.

_("I'm trying to forget some things too.")_

Mistakes are the forte of every little girl.

_(But they seem to follow her like a shadow.)_

_

* * *

_When it is all over, she is back where she started.

_("Nate?")_

She'll never forget.

_(and my heart is broken)_

And in the end, she's alone again

and she is still lost.

_(all my scars are open)_

No one is going to be there in the morning.

Not for Jenny Humphrey.

_(I miss you. And I wish you were here.)_

_

* * *

_

A/N: Music credit goes to The Weepies' "World Spins Madly On", Shontelle's "Impossible, and Lifehouse's "From Where You Are".

This focuses on the C/J moment overall but there's always a chance I'll address the rest of the ep. in another chapter. This is just what my muse was screaming at the time. Whew, that ending, I depressed myself. ;p

I'm still working on my "twelve steps to accepting the finale happened", but (call me crazy) I am choosing to have faith S4 will make up for it. I'm requesting dark!Nate now so the writers have plenty of time to get on that.

As always, comments/reviews are welcome!


	12. Chapter 12

A/N: Nate's P.O.V. I am the worst for taking sooo long to get this up; I got lost somewhere this summer and I'm sorry. Don't hate me too much?

As always, much love to all my readers/reviewers!

* * *

He is losing his grip.

_(she shows up in his life, his apartment, his bed—and he never says no)_

This keeps happening and he doesn't stop it and even when he says 'no' it comes out 'yes'

_("I just thought you'd, um, be with Serena or something." "Nope.")_

Come in; take my heart, my mind, my mattress.

_("You know I'm here for you, whatever you need.")_

His head screams '_she's standing too close_' but his body hisses '_touch her_'

_(and his heart rasps something faintly but he's been ignoring it for so long it is almost easy)_

And there's a floodgate somewhere between his brain and his feelings that's definitely busted.

_(He never considered himself a talker. Declarations weren't his thing. It should be funny how easily it changed.)_

He catches himself spouting this crap,

_("You're a really special girl, Jenny.") _

and he never comes up with that for Serena and she doesn't seem to miss it and he's not sure why it's so damn easy to _not _shut up;

_(his heart wheezes 'Jenny')_

But he can't hear it over the deafening silence.

* * *

He is a masochist.

_(He must be. He always walks into her fire.)_

He likes the burn, craves the pain, wants a little dark, needs a little shadow;

_(just gonna stand there and watch me)_

perky and perfect gets exhausting.

He is a sadist too.

_(high off the love, drunk from the hate)_

He listens to her cries for help but doesn't act.

_(just gonna stand there and hear me)_

For once in his life, he'll watch her fall down;

_(struggle, claw, but submit)_

and a small part of him will rejoice because he wants her to suffer for making him this way. He can't be happy with what he has and he won't see her happy without him.

_(I'm going to tie her to the bed and set this house on fire)_

_

* * *

_

She blows into his life in a hail of library books and masquerade masks, uproots his neatly structured existence

_(and his sanity)_

and is gone.

He simmers under the surface; the perfect gentleman,

_(her Knight in Shining Armani)_

smartly coiffed and soft-spoken, until the pressure releases in an eruption of '_because_' and little black bras.

_(that's what happens when a tornado meets a volcano)_

_

* * *

_

But they're always putting each other back together so when she finally snaps

_("You two deserve each other!")_

and leaves, he doesn't have anything to say

_(because she's right)_

because he doesn't know who to turn to

_(how to do this)_

when she's not there.

* * *

He is losing it.

_(about to drown, she resuscitates me, she fucking hates me, and I love it, wait)_

And he walks to the edge of the abyss and drinks deeply

_(greedily)_

and it's that easy

_(and it bothers him but he drinks until he doesn't mind)_

and if he doesn't tell anyone

_(how he wishes she were here)_

then it's like it never happened at all

_(and he wants to love this idea but it still makes him itch and sweat and it stings)_

_

* * *

_

It might feel like there is a steel knife in his windpipe

_(but that's alright because I like the way it hurts)_

but he'll still fight

_(while I can fight, as long as the wrong feels right)_

spewing venom in these words

_("Just get out.")_

He says she's special and she says he's amazing

_(I love the way you lie)_

and all is well and good until it's broken hearts and broken homes and broken promises and he needs someone to catch him this time

_(notice, care)_

And she is nowhere to be found.

* * *

Everyone is talking to him like he should be pissed. Or upset. Or something.

_(But he doesn't feel anything.)_

His friend and his girlfriend in the same bed?

_(He tries to get mad but he thinks the word 'bed' and all he can see is dress shirts and knee-high socks and he's been humming "Supermassive Black Hole" all morning and Chuck is never going to let him live that down_._)_

So he remembers the last time his friend got touchy with his girlfriend and tries to muster indignation or pain—

_(he doesn't feel it now and he's not sure he felt it then)_

—but he has no desire to remodel Dan's face with a limousine

_(and his father would be dismayed to see the young Archibald shunning 'the right thing')_

And he just doesn't care.

_("Yes, Serena, it is you.")_

There are no tears. He does not beg this time. His _relationship_ with Serena ends when he decides he doesn't need another girlfriend that holds him at number two _(or three, or four)_ on her list.

_("It only stops when you stop it.")_

He won't watch blonde hair and legs walk away; and he doesn't want to dial _her_ number and he isn't thinking about how proud she'd be.

_(He holds onto the table, but his thumb taps of its own free will as if scrolling through the invisible contacts menu)_

This morning is already a million miles away and he doesn't understand how everything seemed so simple a few hours ago but then he knows simple is deceiving

_("I just, I don't want you to get the wrong impression." "Don't worry I get it. You and I are friends. You love Serena.")_

And he is nothing if not a good liar.

* * *

He tells Chuck he is interested in his little black book

_(when really all he wants to do is curl up and not exist for awhile)_

And he buries his sorrows in women and drowns his pain in something hard and wet

_(Violating the couch will be easily forgiven but Nate knows Chuck will be pissed about the Scotch.)_

The more he drinks the less he understands how he got here; he sees Serena, vibrant, beautiful,

_(a lie)_

and not at all what he wants—

_(but you lied again, now you get to watch her leave)_

—that's on the midnight train to Hudson.

_(maybe you'll forget you were ever, never here)_

_

* * *

_

_("Nothing happened.")_

Does it count as a lie if you wish what you said isn't true?

* * *

_(I miss you. And I wish you were here.) _

_

* * *

_

A/N: Music credit goes to Eminem & Rihanna's "Love the Way You Lie" and Vertical Horizon's "Goodbye Again". Also credit to GG 3.22 for dialogue.

Nate's P.O.V. on the events of 3.22. I don't know how much I like this one as I got lost in a stream of consciousness a few times in writing it but S4 promises to rescue me. Please, please, please give me back my N/J ASAP!

As always, comments/reviews are welcome!


	13. Chapter 13

A/N: Jenny's P.O.V. This chapter is dedicated to Seph Meadowes who made my night with Baby!Archibald in "Under the Sheets". Read it! :)

As always, much love to my readers/reviewers!

* * *

At first she sees him everywhere she goes

_(in everything and everyone and) _

The first week she nearly mistakes the barista for a blue-eyed memory and drops the contents of her change purse into the tip jar

_(like she can pay him away—but it doesn't work; she's kidding herself and she's not fooling anyone)_

The second week she hides in the bathroom at her mother's gallery for 40 minutes after she overenthusiastically greets a complete stranger

_(with man bangs and a very convincing navy polo)_

_

* * *

_

Her phone sits in a drawer weeks three and four

_(and her mother is simultaneously pissed and baffled)_

after Gossip Girl broadcasts Archibald, Sr. is being transferred to more local confinement.

_(She gets six digits into his phone number before she can stop.)_

She quietly relapses Saturday night and gets wasted with normal kids at a normal party with normal consequences

_(more hangover, less blackmail)_

_

* * *

_

And a stranger's number in her phone.

_(met a man just yesterday)_

She clings to him

_(it's Jake and he is almost nothing like anyone she's ever met before)_

And by week seven his blue eyes almost don't affect her.

_(said that he could erase)_

And they go normal places like dinner and movies

_(but never the quaint coffee shop in town)_

And do normal things like glow bowling and they attend Alison's art shows

_(they don't have masquerade balls or fashion shows in Hudson)_

And even the mention of prom makes her twitch

_(any memory that I don't want no more)_

_

* * *

_

By July

_(that's week nine) _

She sees him six days a week and sketches on day seven until she can't feel her hand but her mind is not as easily exhausted

_(I'm sick of thinking about you)_

Poor Jake is a sweetheart but he never really knew what he was getting himself into

_(and Anne Archibald was being interviewed on Regis & Kelly this morning)_

And she lets him go before she can do any damage.

Landon promises her a variety of things

_(are you sure that, I won't recognize him)_

And fulfills exactly none.

_(if we should walk right past each other)_

But she keeps him around until August because she can't have time to remember

_(I just wanna forget you)_

She keeps sketching and stitching but she's working backwards if she wants to

_(turn you into a perfect stranger)_

erase what brought her here.

* * *

If the U.E.S. taught her anything, it was the merits of a good liar and the keys to a good lie

_(every contour of your face, will eventually fade) _

and sometimes she is almost okay

_(dare she say, good)_

until her phone vibrates and it is the GG alert she hasn't found the time

_(strength) _

to kill and it's back to

_(please guarantee me that I won't fall for the way he looks so deep into me)_

you've lost the only thing that ever made you feel alive.

* * *

She hears through the grapevine

_(Eric, Dan; even Chuck asks for her help when he surfaces)_

that Nate fell apart in the aftermath of Hurricane Serena 2.0.

There are strippers and strippers plus and drugs and booze and she waits for this to sink in, waits for the news to soil her memories, taint her opinion of him, to free her from this tug-of-war

_(but you'll always be my hero even though you've lost your mind)_

There's no rest at all in freedom anyway

_(and it's sick that all these battles are what keeps me satisfied)_

And she sleeps normal hours in Hudson but she's exhausted

_(now there's gravel in our voices)_

And it's always the same dream and she wishes she could say it's a nightmare but in it he's there and it's perfect and he's ruined her

_(you feed me fables from your hand)_

_

* * *

_

Week thirteen she stuffs her patterns under her bed and covers her Singer with a sweatshirt

_(you can only read 'Columbia' emblazoned across it if you turn it over)_

And she hides out at the beach for three days

_(and she can almost forget to look over her shoulder)_

And her phone is off and her friends are a perfect distraction

But she runs into the Archibald driver leaving a surf shop one morning and her phone remains on every second thereafter.

_(she missed the blast by a mere twelve hours)_

She makes a point to avoid that side of the boardwalk

_(street, town, county)_

Her friends tease her

_(she calls them friends but they don't know her)_

and she laughs with them and she knows she's being insane and she knows she's being weak and she knows what Eric really means when she returns his missed call and he asks how her vacation is treating her.

_(she's still breathing)_

She's fine.

* * *

The Vanderbilts throw a party at the Hampton house to mark the impending end of summer and she tells herself it's just another party

But the tabloids run the photos and his face is everywhere and his eyes are empty and she's barely eaten so the pangs aren't indigestion and she thought she'd be safe here but the newsstands are just as saturated with the UES as the streets of NYC

And for all her show of being strong and moving on and not looking back she knows

_(you'll always win, even when I'm right)_

She's a hopeless masochist where he's concerned

_(I try to run but I don't ever wanna leave)_

She almost caves.

_(part of you haunts me; but I found a way to skip you, erase you)_

but he loved her for her tenacity and

_(even if he'll never know)_

She can't bring herself to fail him.

* * *

Sometimes she thinks that if he'd just walk back through the doors of the Brooklyn loft, Hudson would be a faint memory

_(and it would be just like you were never gone)_

And she has to remind herself

_(it took awhile to understand, the beauty of just letting go)_

_

* * *

_

And it all ends with a phone call in week fifteen.

_("This is Lila from Parsons; we received your portfolio…")_

She tells herself it's for her but it's a little bit for him

_(take me home to my heart)_

And if she should see him on the street

_(can you take it, can we save it)_

She can talk to him as if they're strangers,

_(I don't know how but now we're so far out of touch)_

meet his eyes with polite detachment,

_(like they never kissed)_

say goodbye

_(like it's not tearing her apart)_

_

* * *

_

There's no pretty other side to their mess and she won't wake up tomorrow and be appreciative of the time they had

_(because it isn't enough; this isn't over)_

She won't reach a profound higher plateau of understanding and see the pain and the hurt in the stupid things they said

_(ain't no way to understand the stupid words of pride)_

But she loves him

_(hates him)_

And she only wants him to be happy

_(never without her)_

And she only wants what is best for him

_(let him fly)_

If that means they go their separate ways

_(it's like razor blades in her lungs and she can't breathe)_

She can _(will)_ do that.

_(she made it to Hudson, didn't she?)_

_

* * *

_

She will tell herself there are a few inches left in that city of sinners that don't remind her of princes and balls and happily ever afters to modern fairytales.

(_on the first page of our story the future seemed so bright)_

She can fake it with the best of them,

_(Blair never accepted anything less.)_

And it won't matter than she means Nate as much as Jennifer when she vows

_(all you are is a perfect stranger)_

They won't see the shadows behind her eyes when she says it.

_(then this thing turned out so evil I don't know why I'm still surprised)_

_

* * *

_

A/N: Music credit goes to Rihanna and Eminem's "Love the Way You Lie Part 2", Leona Lewis' "Perfect Stranger", Jessica Simpson's "Let Him Fly", and The Script's "If You Ever Come Back".

This is Jenny's summer between S3 and S4 done my way. I have yet to tackle any actual S4 plot (*cough* What plot?) but I am getting there I promise.

As always, comments/reviews are welcome!


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